


The Generation Game

by drtempledragon



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Humor, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 07:02:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18987649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drtempledragon/pseuds/drtempledragon
Summary: Jackie gets ideas about her only daughter travelling with two males. She wants marriage before pregnancy for Rose, and sets about confronting Mickey, the Doctor and her about it.Originally posted on LiveJournal and archived on Teaspoon.





	The Generation Game

~~~~~

Jackie Tyler had missed Mickey coming around for Sunday lunch. Neighbours on the estate had naturally (nosily) asked where he had gone, and she had briefly replied that he had joined Rose and some friends on their travels. Other people had gossiped that Mickey’s flat was still rented out to him by the council when there were needy souls (single teenage mothers) that would benefit in his absence; they idly wondered how travelling paid the bills. Mickey had earned his right to the place as far as Jackie was concerned. He had struggled from being raised on his Grandma’s pension and living as a minority in his skin, to getting some GCSEs and a regular mechanics job, which had secured a space to himself.

The Doctor had ‘fixed’ the pay machine in Mickey’s flat, so he did not have to move his stuff or worry about bills while they were travelling. At Jackie’s grumbling that he hadn’t ‘fixed’ her rent, the Doctor had threatened to move all Mickey’s stuff into her flat; nobody seemed to like that idea. The Doctor had also given a speech about people getting suspicious as to her newfound wealth when her lifestyle was about ‘favours’, which caused more huffing. But she could not stay mad at the Doctor; he made her only daughter happy.

Somehow they always managed to time their home visits when Jackie did not have any clients for the afternoon. God only knew why Rose did not use her phone to give her a bit of warning; if the Doctor could afford flats he could afford phone bills, unless it was a male bonding thing. Each visit, Rose seemed to bring home even more dirty laundry, and their appearance always meant empty cupboards.

Jackie was not complaining much, though. The last time the three of them came home Rose had positively glowed, and not for the tan she was sporting. It had been varying weeks for both Rose and Jackie between visits. She had also declined a repeat prescription for the Patch and the Pill, despite Rose grovelling when she first started travelling for a big supply from their GP (calling in ‘favours’). Rose had not had a period at home for at least two visits, either. To Jackie Tyler’s ageing maternal mind, that meant only one thing; their next home visit would involve subtle questioning about the patter of tiny feet. 

***

“Mum, we’re home!” Rose cried into the flat. Jackie greeted her in the hallway with a big hug and waved to Mickey, who was shutting the door behind them. Rose swung the black and red adventure bag off her shoulder, which was stuffed to bursting point with dirty laundry.

“No Doctor?” Jackie enquired to both of them as she took the bag off Rose.

“Nah,” Rose replied. “Maybe later, for tea.” She smirked; it had been too close between visits for him to venture into the flat and brave her Mum’s cooking. She lowered her voice and gestured to her backpack, “Mum, there’s some of Mickey’s stuff in there. Can you do it with mine, please? Otherwise it won’t get done; you know what he’s like.”

Rose’s words of combining laundry fuelled Jackie’s suspicions. Mickey was still hovering in the corridor, not venturing past either of them into the flat, despite being welcome before. Guilty, perhaps. Jackie gave him a once over with her eyes and sniffed; he always had held a candle to her Rose. Not the brightest of the bunch, but he was safe and practical. Mickey shifted uncomfortably under Jackie’s watch and made excuses to go to his own flat. Rose seemed a little surprised at his departure, Jackie noticed. She took the opportunity for some mother-daughter bonding, to see if she would tell her the news.

“If there’s four of us for tea, we need to get some groceries,” Jackie said as she moved into the kitchen. “We’ll pop the washer on before we go.”

Rose made no arguments; shopping with two men just did not happen. She was distracted with texting Mickey the bad news about tea as she followed after her Mum.

It afforded Jackie a clear view of Rose’s midriff, exposed between t-shirt and jeans, as she bent over to fill the washing machine. Her hips were getting wider, more defined, and not just due to the tighter clothing.

***

“Is there anything else you need, sweetheart?” Jackie asked as she pushed the trolley by the maternity isle of the local supermarket. “Growing girl like you. You’ve certainly got an appetite.” Eating for two, Jackie thought, as she watched Rose continue to nibble on sweet cakes and sour yoghurt from the trolley. Very odd food craving, that. At least she was using a spoon.

Rose patted her belly in an exaggerated fashion and laughed slightly, “Too many exotic chips. Need to do more running.”

Jackie resisted the urge to tell Rose off for hitting her tummy like that, especially in her condition. No more adventures either in the near future, should keep the weight off her feet. Plenty of weight was due, if her pregnancy with Rose was anything to go by.

“Oh, actually I need some tampons.”

Jackie blinked. Rose was being serious. Her disappointment at not being a grandmother was quickly outweighed with the thought that now she could have it on her terms: With a house and a father on a stable income, something that she could never give Rose when she was growing up. Jackie made a reassessment of her maternal instinct. Rose’s tan might be fading, but her pose and her clothes flaunted confidence. To Jackie’s eyes, Rose now looked like she was advertising herself. She wondered who had picked up the signal to make Rose so radiant.

“I’ll carry on to the checkout,” Jackie said. “Phone Mickey, he can give us a hand carrying these bags.” Rose pulled out her mobile phone, and Jackie overheard the words ‘big, strong man’ as they parted company. With that in mind, Jackie had one more item to get, and planned on reminding Mickey of a conversation they had long ago.

***

Rose, Mickey and Jackie were unpacking the shopping in the kitchen. At one point, Rose went into the hallway to put stuff in the cleaning cupboard. Jackie took her opportunity to pounce. “You and Rose been up to any funny business while you’ve been travelling with her?” She never even stopped unpacking things, knowing the power she had over Mickey when she was protecting Rose.

Mickey may have been an idiot, but he knew exactly what Jackie meant. He had all too vivid memories of paying too much ‘attention’ to Rose when she was fifteen and ‘the talk’ that had followed. No sex under Jackie’s roof, that was for sure. Not that it mattered now; Rose didn’t want him like that anymore. “It’s not me you should be worried about,” he replied resignedly as Rose came back in. Jackie looked between the two of them, and then set her mind to the Doctor.

“Will the Doctor eat chicken and veg?” Jackie asked Rose in her sweetest voice.

“Should do,” Rose said distractedly, smiling quietly to herself as she resumed unpacking. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Jackie fetch out the whole chicken and begin to arrange it in the baking tray. “Oh no, not tonight. I’m not that hungry.” It was daft; she’d asked to come back craving hot, home cooked food, and now she was stuffed from nibbling all afternoon.

“Well I can’t leave it. On special offer – won’t keep,” Jackie reminded her. If Rose wouldn’t eat a proper dinner, neither would the Doctor. “At least sit with us, otherwise you’ll be picking all night.”

During dinner, Mickey looked relieved to be eating non-alien food, but wasn’t sure he could eat that much more of Jackie’s cooking now there were less mouths to feed. The Doctor had not come, and Rose seemed restless. She went to put her jacket on and Jackie called after her.

“Stay, love. I hardly get to spend time with you,” Jackie cooed. “The Doctor will come when he’s ready,” she guessed at her plans for company, and Rose’s sigh near-confirmed it. Jackie would be damned if he would see Rose alone again at night before she had made an impression on him, but Rose remained clueless to her ulterior motives. Instead they all moved into the lounge and chatted about their adventures - Earth bound and otherwise - to a backdrop of mindless television.

As the evening lengthened and the conversations quietened, Mickey left to go to his own flat. No point in sleeping on the sofa when he had a bed waiting. Even if no-one would be joining him, he still had his emails to keep him company. 

***

The following afternoon brought typical late summer weather and the Doctor breezed into Jackie Tyler’s flat in search of his companion. Instead of finding her, the Doctor found himself cornered in the kitchen by one very insistent Jackie Tyler. He splayed his hands out in an open manner – a slightly defensive one too – and Jackie filled them with a box that little square sachets spilled out of. Quite a number of square sachets, in fact.

“’Ere, I know you’re an alien, and I know Rose insists that ‘it’s not like that’,” Jackie began. He was subjected to Jackie’s eyes giving his thin frame a cursory glance before returning to stare at him, “But you look human enough, and I imagine some things are universal.”

The Doctor dared to break her gaze and glance at the contents of his palms. His eyes and mouth opened wide upon recognising the primitive attempt at contraceptives.

“You can protect her from invasions of farting monsters and skull headed armies, but can you protect her from you?” The Doctor attempted to mouth silent protest; Jackie felt triumphant that he didn’t seem so cocksure now, after waltzing in unannounced. “I don’t want you as a son-in-law after you’ve knocked her up,” she finished. Normal services resumed, and she turned to the kettle, “You want a cuppa while you’re here?”

Rose poked her head around the kitchen doorframe at the sound of voices. The Doctor quickly stuffed his hands into his overcoat pockets and cleared his throat. She smiled at the sight of him. Then Rose noticed he had gone quite pale, and that was saying something; all his freckles had gone into hiding, and her smile faltered.

“Are you ready to go?” The Doctor asked, his voice level as he made his way past Rose and towards the front door.

Rose wondered what was wrong, and she hesitated before following him. He normally stayed in the flat longer than this, or at least held out a hand to her when they were leaving. Behind her, her Mum muttered something about rude manners. She declined asking him what was wrong while they were beyond the TARDIS and focused on more practical matters.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Rose put forward.

The Doctor turned in the front door frame to face her. He had certainly got more than he came for, pocket and earful. He scratched the back of his head, stumped. “Mickey?” she prompted.

Rose was slightly amused at the Doctor’s attempt to cover up his shortcomings. Her Mum shifted her mutterings to include laundry. “Twenty minutes, yeah? Some of us wear more clothes than you.” The Doctor nodded and looked relieved to be heading off. Not in the direction of Mickey’s flat, though. As usual it was left to Rose to clean up after him.

***

The reason for their early departure eluded Rose. The TARDIS was fine and they did not have to go anywhere; instead they were in a holding pattern in the Vortex. The Doctor had been (dare she say it) ‘chummy’ with Mickey in the control room, probably on account of forgetting about him earlier. Rose had left them, and gone to her bedroom to air up the clothes that had not dried properly. Now she was headed towards the kitchen, to put the sandwiches her Mum had made for their journey into the fridge. As she approached, she heard the Doctor talking, to himself.

“You owe me a hot, home cooked dinner,” she called out to him cheekily. But as she entered the doorway she choked at the sight.

The Doctor had condoms pulled over his fingers and was licking at them gratuitously with his tongue. “Ugh, that tastes nothing like strawberry!” He seemed oblivious to her presence. “Yeah, you can tell that’s vanilla. Ooh, dark chocolate.”

Rose was unable to move or look away, or breathe, despite wanting to laugh in hysteria.

His interest peaked, “I wonder if you can combine these things.” With that, he inserted his covered fingers into his mouth all at once. He smiled satedly, and when he opened his eyes he noticed Rose. “It’s a Neapolitan ice cream!” he grinned at her.

Rose was convinced she had turned the colour of a baboon’s backside.

The Doctor looked at the box of pick and mix condoms and the instructions on the kitchen table, and frowned, “Not designed to move during intercourse.” He sighed, peeled one condom off and stretched it, “What’s that going to fit anyway?”

Rose had lost the power of speech and indeed coherent thought. He launched the condoms at pans hanging around the room exclaiming, “Bullseye!” as the metal rung out with successful targets. Rose hoped she had died from embarrassment, and wished the TARDIS floor would open up and swallow her in her wake. “Humans and hydraulics, rigid and thick,” he mused. He skimmed the box over the table towards Rose, “See if Mickey wants these.”

Rose dropped the cellophane wrapped sandwiches on the table and backed away as the condoms approached. They fell from view onto a chair seat; in their obscurity she managed to return enough flow of blood to her legs to run away and hide in her room.

Not long after Rose’s departure Mickey came into the kitchen enquiring what was for dinner. The Doctor gestured to the other end of the table, “Cold turkey.”

***

The world was coming together to conspire against her - Rose was convinced - even in what she thought was the safe haven of her bedroom. The usual comfort found in the organic walls of the TARDIS now appeared as gigantic phallus struts surrounded by roundels that were inviting in an altogether different way. She shut her eyes trying to escape, but the Doctor’s words created visions in her unconscious mind.

She found herself in the flat, stripping the newly Regenerated Doctor out of his old clothes, save for his underpants. He looked human enough through the fabric. Not that she was staring; there weren’t two of them. She looked over her shoulder at a dark skinned man in rich clothing, who was playing a seductive flute. Okay, _now_ she was staring at his crotch, anticipating whatever lay beneath to uncoil and charm its way out. She fell onto the bed to get a better view, but never got to see, as she woke up to her bedside cabinet on the TARDIS. Deciding dreams weren’t safe either, she got off her bed and headed to the kitchen, as her stomach growled.

The Doctor was still in the kitchen with his back to her, preparing something on the counter surface. Upon seeing him, her lower abdomen had a different kind of appetite. He turned around with a charismatic smile and plucked a banana from a bunch he was holding. “Look at the size of my banana! Good source of Potassium.” Now he was standing right in front of her - when had that happened? “Where are my manners, I should be eating at the table.” With that he dipped them onto the surface behind her and sandwiched himself between her legs. Her memory source for the sensation of pressing against him was surprisingly strong. She had no real memory of his mouth touching her though, which felt odd as he shuffled down and blew a raspberry into her exposed navel, before pulling out a cherry. He teased the underside with the tip of his tongue, “Can I have this?” Mickey grabbed her ankle and she squirmed away to find herself curled up on her bed again.

She got up to have a cold shower, only to discover she had company waiting to help raise the temperature.

***

The Doctor had just the thing to cheer Rose up. He had it under wraps and was walking to her bedroom. He rapped on her door, calling, “Knock, knock!” through it. Rose said something resembling ‘not again’ and the Doctor frowned. He had just left Mickey in the games room. Surely he had not been getting preparations that long? He opened the door slowly to reveal Rose curled up on her bed in jogging trousers and baggy t-shirt. She was awake and seemed to be eyeing him up, to prove his existence. The draft of closing the door wafted the salty smell of his present in her direction. She inhaled deeply and sat up, moistening her lips slightly and smiling.

“Chips!” she exclaimed giddily, not yet fully coherent. He came and knelt by her bed, respecting her private space but being on level terms, and pulled out a newspaper wrapped parcel.

“Bona fide Twenty-first century, London fried, salted, vinegary chipped potatoes,” he said proudly. “Always taste better wrapped in newspaper. Had to go and buy it separately; you humans and your health and safety regulations.”

Rose laid the paper on the bed space between them. She was warmed that the Doctor had gone to the trouble, and the chips were still hot, too. Before joining in eating, he pulled out a punnet of strawberries and some cream and chocolate dipping sauces. The burning chip slowly descending in her throat convinced her she was not dreaming again. She could feel her cheeks reddening and suddenly found the weave of the bedspread fascinating. The Doctor’s fingers touched hers as they both went for chips; her eyes followed them from the chocolate and into his mouth, and then were drawn to his eyes.

“My Mum’s ruining my life,” the confession came readily. Time seemed to be dilating yet things were going too fast. “She wants grandkids, but with a proper son-in-law; a man with a good money, good job prospects,” she reeled out the mantra before stopping to realise their implication. “Tied down.”

“It’s parental instinct to want what’s best for their offspring,” the Doctor offered, rather than lectured. Rose remained silent. “Even your Mother is normal in having it, but the way she goes about it? Not so much.” He bit into a cream covered strawberry and she smiled slightly. This was more like Rose, able to share the humour in what life threw at them. His face then became impartial, “Do you want children?”

“No,” she said automatically. In her mind was the opposing duality of her Mum warning her off kids by pointing to all the single girls her age who were Mothers already, and the reminders that Jackie was getting on and wished to know her grandchildren. Yet here was the Doctor, asking what Rose wanted. “I’ve never really thought about it, not seriously,” she admitted, more to herself than to him. Too young for that kind of responsibility; Mickey was enough of a handful.

He held out a hand to her, palm facing upwards. “I have something to help focus your mind.” He pulled out a blue silk bag from his trouser pocket, and they both grinned. Rose recognised it as Tarot cards, the ones that were helping her meditate so she could learn to fly the TARDIS. She placed her hand in his and he helped her off the bed, to come and sit cross legged on the floor opposite him. He brought the remaining food down and ate rather sensibly (for the Doctor at least). She tried to clear her mind as she shuffled the deck and drew out seven cards in a horseshoe. Thankfully nothing maternal or child bearing came up. But did the Doctor see what she saw?

“The cards and orientation mean different things at different times,” he reminded her, seemingly picking up on her thoughts. “Say the first thing that comes to mind, as it comes.”

“I’ve had a pleasurable recent past (IX Cups),” she remembered fondly the trip to the funfair, spending time with Mickey and the Doctor (mostly the Doctor). Rose cleared her throat. “Now… is that me?” The Doctor nodded at the High Priestess card she had pointed to. “Intuition about how to make your life better with what you have.” She looked to the next card (Ace of Pentacles), “A lot of hard work and it’s only just started!” She laughed; it was difficult enough remembering the seventy-eight different cards, let alone the combinations. But the Doctor did not push her. 

“Page of Wands,” she sucked in a breath at the obstacle slot. It was a Court card, and she didn’t know if it meant a person or a message. It felt like both, “Trips to far away places, really far, places you don’t normally go.” Damn, there was another Court card (King of Pentacles) for the attitudes of others. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, “A proud man.”

When she opened her eyes she saw that the Doctor was indeed very proud and made no attempt to hide it, his eyes and his smile beaming at her. This was the most cards she had read without being prompted. When she managed to tear her eyes back to the cards she read the actions (V Wands). “Challenges, a need to prove yourself; that you’re different though your competitors look the same.” Rose looked to the outcome card and briefly thought of all the companions that had come before her. Yet it didn’t feel like the cards were about that, that it was more recent history coming to play.

The Doctor took her hesitation as being stuck. “Ace of Cups, the realm of vivid dreams, new love tugging at the heart strings from stolen glances; a promise of so much more”, he said calmly. Rose did well to hide the progressive blushing at each point he made (hide from anyone but his keen senses, at least). “There are two Ace cards, which represents partnership; a new home or love affair,” he informed her of the combination and its possible interpretations.

“Five weeks time frame,” Rose finished the reading but she did not return the cards to the pack. The Page of Wands still bothered her. She pointed to it, “That feels like Mickey, but it still feels like a warning about a far away trip, too.”

“It can be both,” the Doctor said nonchalantly as he finished the strawberries and chocolate. Rose looked to the Ace cards, positioned in the influence and outcome positions. Deep down, on the edge of her conscious, she felt like the cards meant all three things the Doctor had said about them appearing together.

Suddenly the Doctor jumped up from his sitting position, “Mickey! I said I’d set up the Twenty-third century virtual gaming suite for him.” Rose was amused that he had forgotten about Mickey, again. “Got to improve his reflexes, after what happened escaping Ragal Six. The boy has no table manners.” With that, he disappeared.

Rose decided not to call after him; Mickey could tell the Doctor he still had chocolate on his nose.

~~~~~


End file.
